


Flying Dutchman

by ALC



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:10:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALC/pseuds/ALC
Summary: Written for Time Petals Prompts, the ficlet prompt was "9/Rose at sea"
The Doctor and Rose find themselves on board and amid the crew of a strange wooden sailing ship.  Only when the fog lifts does the Doctor understand what happened- even if he can't explain how.  Just a fun, spooky story for Halloween.





	

Flying Dutchman

The rotor slowed gradually, and the groaning wheezing sound came to a halt. Rose picked herself up off the grating and brushed off her shirt, looking up at the Doctor. 

“Okay?” he asked, straightening his jacket.

She grinned. “Bit of a rocky ride! ‘M fine. Is the TARDIS okay?”

The Doctor patted the console. “I expect she’s just fine. Some rides are a little bumpier than others.” 

“So…where are we, then?”

He scratched his head. “Earth…somewhere.”

Rose made a face. “That doesn’t exactly narrow it down…what year is it?”

“1942?”

“Are you askin’ me or tellin’ me?” Rose asked, adjusting the laces on her trainers.

Shaking his head. “Dunno. We’re not supposed to be on Earth at all. Seems like the TARDIS had other plans for us.” 

She looked down at her jeans and tee shirt. “Do I need to change, then?” 

“Go on, then. I’ll wait.” 

Flashing a brilliant smile, she spun on her heel and headed for the wardrobe room. On the way past her room, she noticed the door was open. Stepping inside, she saw the ship had already laid a new set of clothes out on the bed. Patting the coral strut happily, Rose got to work changing into what seemed like a very modest outfit for the 1940’s. “Seems like a lot of clothes,” she said softly. 

The ship hummed in reply.

“But I trust you,” she smiled. 

Walking quickly, she joined the Doctor back in the dim light of the console room. He had a puzzled expression on his face, his forehead wrinkled.

“Somethin’ wrong?” she asked.

He turned around. “I don’t know. She doesn’t like somethin’, but she won’t tell me what. The readings are all normal, but…”

“Should we leave, then, if she doesn’t like it here?”

“Rose, she landed us here. There might be something that needs doing.” He shrugged and patted the coral strut. “Best go and investigate.” 

“Ooh!” she grinned. “Sounds mysterious!”

“It’s probably nothin’, Rose. After all, the readings are all normal. Could be the TARDIS mixed it up a bit.” He gave her a wink. “Only one way to find out.” 

Cautiously the door swung open and the Doctor stepped out. He looked around, humming. 

“What? What is it?”

He turned around. “Oh, nothin’ really. Just looks like we’re in the hold of a ship. A wooden ship, at that.” 

“What? I thought you said 1942,” she said, stepping past him to walk into the vessel. Glancing around in the darkened hold, she could make out wooden beams to the side and above her. The ship creaked lightly and a slight sensation of bobbing told her that they were, in fact, at sea. Her nose wrinkled as a musty, decaying scent hit her nostrils. “God, is that what all ships are like?” Something else lingered in the background, a strange metallic taste. “D’you taste that? ‘S weird. Like..”

“Metal,” the Doctor answered quietly. His expression was blank, but she noticed the slight tightening of his jaw.

“Yeah. What is that?”

He shook his head slightly then gave her a smile. “Dunno. Care to explore?” 

“Is it a good idea, though? What if people see us?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Then we’ll say hello, Rose!” 

Slowly, they wove their way through the hold. It was filled with all manner of wooden crates, great barrels, and massive coils of rope. The dim glow from the police signs at top of the TARDIS was the only light source, save for a square of light coming from a large grating in the ceiling above them.

The light source told Rose that, at the very least, they were only one level below the main deck. A tight, cramped staircase led up, and the Doctor pushed on the wooden door, revealing a dull gray sky. 

“Right this way!” he said, offering Rose a hand. 

She stumbled upon the deck and took in a deep breath. The air, salty and a bit heavy, filled her lungs. The distasteful metal tang, however, still lingered in the recesses of her tongue, doggedly persisting, despite being freed from the confines of the lower deck of the ship. 

Gray skies swirled around the boat, a dense, foggy mist. The sails hung limply from the masts and rigging, sagging pathetically. A man walked past dressed in rough, hand-sewn clothes, dark and dingy. 

“This is not 1942,” she whispered softly. 

“Excuse me,” he asked the man, tapping his shoulder. 

The crew member gave the Doctor a strange look, but said nothing. 

“I seem to have forgotten- where are we, exactly?” the Doctor asked, cheerfully.

The crew man grunted. “Nearing the Cape of Good Hope,” he mumbled and ambled off. 

“Not exactly friendly, was he?” Rose asked, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Something about him seemed off.” 

“Oh, I don’t know, he seemed nice enough. Got to remember, Rose, everyone on this ship has a duty to perform. Interrupt them from their work, you might get a terse reply.”

Men were all around them, most in shabby clothes. A dozen or more stomped and clomped about, not talking with each other but working- always working. Rose watched as they walked along doggedly, their tired shoulders bent.

She bit her lip. “So…why are we here, then?”

The Doctor rummaged in his jacket pocket bringing out his sonic screwdriver. He adjusted the settings and pointed it in the air. The small device whirred quietly as he took readings. “Funny,” the Doctor said softly.

“What is?”

He pursed his lips and didn’t answer, again pulsing the device. 

“Yeah. Something’s wrong with the sonic. Giving me all manner of strange read outs.” 

Rose pulled her sleeves down and looked about the ship. “Is it the fog?”

He shot her a withering look. “Fog would not interfere with my screwdriver.” 

She raised her eyebrows and huffed. “Well, pardon the stupid ape.” 

“No, no, Rose. I didn’t mean it like that. Honestly. I’m just not sure what’s wrong with this.” He smacked the sonic against his hand twice and shook his head, pocketing it back in his black leather jacket. “But no, the fog wouldn’t affect its capabilities.” 

“Is that the captain?” she asked, indicating to a bald man mumbling to himself at the wheel of the ship.

“Could be…” he said. “The clothes are right.” 

They were quiet for a moment, standing in the midst of the crew as they worked. No birds flew about and no wind filled the sails. It was eerily still.

“Doctor?” she asked, looking around. “We’ve just appeared on this ship.” 

He pursed his lips. “Yes.”

She looked around. “You don’t think it’s strange that nobody’s even noticed us?”

The Doctor looked up, taking notice of the sailors. “Yeah. I do. I was hoping you hadn’t picked up on it.”

“What’s wrong with ‘em? Are they under alien control or somethin’?” she asked, biting her lip.

“There’s no sign of any aliens around, Rose. They’re just…focused.”

“Yeah, and I’m saying that’s weird.” 

The Doctor huffed. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but I’d rather be ignored than chased, wouldn’t you?”

She bit her lip. “Something’s not right. I can feel it.” 

The ship creaked gently, but the only other sounds were that of the water lapping against the side of the boat, the men’s boots thumping against the deck, and captain mumbling quietly to himself. The air was heavy and still, and the thick fog added to the strange sense of foreboding.

A short man dressed in a filthy gray shirt and dark trousers walked at them, eyes on the ground.

“Excuse me,” the Doctor said, putting his hand on the man’s shoulder. 

He looked at him surprised.

“How long have you been aboard?” he asked pleasantly.

The man looked over his shoulder and back at the Doctor. “Awhile.”

The Doctor shook his head. “How long is awhile?”

“A long while.” He paused. “Longer than you could fathom.” 

“You might be surprised,” said the Doctor with a smile. 

The sailor turned around, walking off without another word. 

A light breeze kissed the side of Rose’s cheek and she shivered. In the distance, she heard a rumble of thunder. “Should we go?” she whispered. 

The Doctor grasped her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’re upset right now, aren’t you?” 

Her eyes darted around nervously. “I don’t know what it is. It’s just…something feels really wrong.” 

A light breeze blew across the deck and the Doctor pulled Rose over to the side. “With the breeze,” he said calmly, “the fog will clear and we’ll soon be able to see around us, alright? Give it a few minutes.” 

She nodded, clutching to the side of the ship. 

He pressed his lips together. It wasn’t like Rose to run from danger. They’d been in much worse situations than this- these people, only humans, didn’t even mind that they were aboard. They’d barely taken notice. He did admit to himself that it was a bit odd- most sailors were protective of their vessels as well as the cargo in them. 

“Doctor!” Rose said, peering into the lifting fog. 

He joined her, staring out into the sea. 

“A boat,” she said, softly. “See? Another boat.”

His brow furrowed. Instead of another wooden sailing ship, a modern freight hauler came into view. It was long and low with electric lights on the rigging and a few windows lit up, as well. “What?” he asked softly, as he stared at the other ship. “That’s…impossible,” he said quietly. 

“Doctor?” she whispered, tugging on his jacket. “The sailors.”

He turned around. Each man had stopped what he was doing and was staring at the passing modern boat. Their eyes turned to the Doctor and Rose, as if noticing them for the first time. 

Two men started towards them, an odd look on their faces. They walked slowly and deliberately. 

“Um, hello,” she said nervously as they approached her, backing against the railing.

“For my wife, he rasped, pulling a folded letter from his pocket. The thick paper was pressed into her hand, smelling musty and damp. 

“My mother,” the other said, “for my mother.” The man wore a dark maroon tunic, belted with cord. He pulled out a yellowed piece of paper, holding it out. 

“You-you want me to take them back?” she asked, confused. 

“For my mother,” he said again softly, turning back. 

Just as soon as they’d been noticed, it seemed that they had been forgotten. The wind was increasing steadily and the sails puffed, filling with air. The crew worked noiselessly as the mumblings of the captain grew louder. 

“What’s he saying?” she asked. “Shouldn’t he be tellin’ them what to do?” Looking back towards the shipping vessel, she turned back to the Doctor. “What’s going on?” 

Another clap of thunder rumbled, closer this time, and a few raindrops started to fall. The Doctor looked around at the crew, oblivious to the storm that would soon be upon them. They were doing nothing to let down the sails or secure the rigging. He turned back, looking at the modern ship, which was now quite close. The men aboard were shouting and running from one side of the boat to the other, some grasping tight to each other. It wasn’t excitement- it was fear. They were afraid. 

He looked up at the captain who hadn’t addressed a single member of his crew. It was almost as though each member of the crew was independent of one another- as if the others didn’t exist. A new dawning sense of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He looked at this companion, who was looking directly at the ship’s wheel. The captain’s eyes were locked on hers. Her hair blew in the wind and he put his arm around her protectively. 

“D-do you hear what he’s sayin’?” she asked. “He’s praying. The same thing over and over again.” 

Lightning sliced through the sky and thunder rumbled. The incessant prayer of the captain reached the Doctor’s ears and he shuddered. “We need to leave. Now.” 

Her eyes were still locked with the Captain’s and the Doctor pulled her across the deck and down below. The ship creaked loudly as they descended the stairs, the hold dark and dingy. The TARDIS still sat in the corner, the dim light shining like a beacon.

“Go,” he said tersely, pushing her across the groaning floor. 

“What’s going on?” she asked. “What’s happening?” 

“You were right,” he said, pulling out the TARDIS key. “Something is wrong and we shouldn’t be here. We need to leave. Now.”

The key slid easily into the lock and he swung the door in. 

“Drop the letters.” 

She gave him an incredulous look. “What?”

“I mean it. Leave them here. Don’t take them with us.”

Cautiously she pulled them from the skirt pocket, placing them hastily on a wooden crate.

“Now go,” he said, pushing her up the ramp.

Rose scrambled into the ship and firmly shut the door behind her, sliding onto the jump seat. 

The Doctor flipped switches quickly, and threw a lever, causing the time rotor to start wheezing. They dematerialized, the TARDIS knocking and bumping them about. 

When it stopped, she picked herself up off the floor and sighed. “We’re okay?”

He checked the readings on the console and pulled out his sonic, pulsing it for good measure. “Yeah. Back in the vortex.” 

She let out a shaky sigh. “I can’t remember when I felt more out of place. It was- that place, that ship? Does it sink? Did-did something happen to it?” 

“Rose…” he paused a minute. “I think it already had.” 

“What? That’s not possible. We were on it. It was solid. Remember?” 

“I can’t explain it,” he said softly, “but do you remember the air?” 

She nodded. “It tasted like metal.” 

“I don’t know how, Rose, but we shouldn’t have been there. You noticed it right away- something was wrong. That strange sixth sense that humans have when they know something dangerous is on the horizon…”

“What happened?” she asked quietly.

The Doctor licked his lips. “I don’t know. I don’t know how any of it was possible. I’m not even sure if it was real…”

Rose shook her head. “It was real.” Staring at the metal grating, she focused a moment on the gentle hum of the ship.

He studied the console, walking around the circular controls. “You should try to get some sleep.”

She swallowed thickly. “Don’t really want to be alone right now, if that’s alright.” She shifted slightly on the seat. “So…you’ve never come across anything like that?”

His blue eyes looked straight into hers. “No. I haven’t, Rose, and I’m not sure I ever want to again.” 

She gave him a small smile. “I think we should stick with aliens, Doctor. Leave the ghost hunting to somebody else.” 

He gave her a tight smile. “I never said they were ghosts, Rose.”

She hopped of the jump seat and stood next to him, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t need to.”

**Author's Note:**

> *sigh* Boy. I really haven't posted anything on here for awhile. 
> 
> I'm trying guys. I'm so very stuck at saying exactly what I want for the last chapter of Content, but I am actively working on it again, instead of just being frustrated and pushing it away. 
> 
> At any rate, I thought some of you might like to read this little thing I wrote for TPP a week or so ago. Happy Halloween!


End file.
